Tough Love
by EntreNous
Summary: Tseng is the bane (and the infatuation) of Reno's existence, but he has a hard time following Tseng's Draconian methods. Nothing Reno does ever seems good enough! Even after Tseng seduces him, Reno still can't be sure what Tseng really wants. Will they find common ground to work together, or does Tseng have other plans for Reno? (M/M, Tseng X Reno. Same old story, new edit!)
1. Chapter 1

Son of a bitch.

I slammed the hood of my car down with more force than was strictly necessary. I'd poked at a thing here, wiggled a thing there, pretending to know what I was looking at, but truth be told, cars make about as much sense to me as women—and some men, but I'll get to that in a bit. With the world's most pathetic sigh, I plunked my backside down on the hood of my car. I felt the metal give under my weight.

I had just put an ass-dent in "Wilma," my 1972 Classic Fury. Great.

Perfect end to a perfect day. The only thing that would make my day any better is if the whole goddamned planet decided to split open and swallow me whole. At least then I'd have a reason to call in sick tomorrow. I had already been planning to find the biggest rock in all of Midgar to crawl under for a few years and hibernate. Then I realized there aren't any rocks in Midgar-potholes and asphalt cracks don't count. That left me with the only other option of leaving town, and thanks to reliable old "Wilma" here underneath me, that wasn't going to happen tonight.

I pulled my feet up on the front bumper and rested my elbows on my knees, digging the heels of my palms into my eye sockets while my butt continued to roll around and make a nice nest for itself on the hood of my car. My head pounded like a rock concert was going on in my skull and a riot was about to break out. My best hope for any kind of salvation for the day was to head to the nearest bar and let them hook me up to a Jack Daniels intravenous, but even that wasn't sounding all that appealing at the moment. Somebody check the temperature in Hell. I think I feel a chill coming on…

What a shitty day.

I know, you're thinking big deal, right? Everyone has them. Wake up late because you forget to set the alarm clock, stub your toe on the side of the tub getting into the shower, have to take a cold shower because there's no hot water left in your building. Car problems...traffic...endless construction on every major road in town… A endless shit-storm of really bad stuff can go wrong, and that's just _getting_ to work.

If you think that's the worst your day can get, you don't work for my boss.

I was four minutes late today. _Four_ damn measly little minutes. And for that Tseng decides to pull me in his office and give me the mother of all ass-chewings. I'm pretty sure that man was put here on the planet to test me. Problem is, I'm no good at tests. I'd flunk a multiple-choice test if there was only one answer.

Honestly, Tseng's lucky I get out of bed at all in the morning. If it weren't for my overwhelming motivation to get up and stumble to the bathroom to relieve my aching bladder from the previous night's drinking binge, I doubt I'd ever wake up at all. But four minutes? C'mon. It takes me that long just to blink some mornings.

"So what's your excuse this time, Reno?" he'd said. "Car problems? Traffic? Forget to have the front desk at the Honeybee give you a wake up call?"

Ok, so I'm just paraphrasing. He didn't really say that stuff about the Honeybee to me—he wouldn't dare—but I knew he was thinking it by The Look. He doesn't have to say anything with The Look. It could freeze a fire-bat in mid air. It's a look that sums up 25 years of disappointment and annoyance and failure focused like a laser through my eyeballs, my skull, and into my very _soul_. And it's one he's been giving me a lot lately.

Thing of it is, I really like Tseng. He's the coolest person I know, and he's not bad company when he's not all business. I know he knows how to smile and laugh-I've seen him do it once or twice, usually at my expense. Of course that was _after_ hours. I don't think he knows how to smile on the clock.

It's not like I intentionally go out of my way to annoy him, I'm just good at it. I guess I go out of my way to get his attention and usually just look like an ass in the process. I _want_ him to notice me, to think I'm worth more than the rumpled suit I wear every day, to be proud of the work I do. My wet dream would just once tell me, "Good job." Nothing fancy. I don't need a party or a plaque or anything. Hell, he doesn't even have to smile. But that's never gonna happen. Not in my lifetime, or his, whichever ends first.

So why do I care so much about what Tseng thinks? Reno-Who-Never-Gave-A-Crap-About-Anybody, hanging on his boss's every word like they were spun from silk as soon as they leave his mouth? Believe me, if you saw him you'd know why. Everything he does—every gesture, every thought, every word he says—you'd swear he took weeks to plan. It's amazing to watch him work. He's confident and intelligent as hell. He's also one of the most visually striking people I've ever laid my eyes on. He makes Rufus Shinra look like Bozo the Clown. He's a lady's man. He's a man's man. Tseng is The Man...

Ok. Fine. I'm attracted to me boss. There, I freaking said it. Happy?

Far from it...

Took me six months to finally admit that to myself, followed by a drinking binge that I think I'm still recovering from. Of course, you never gradually come to realize these things. They always hit you like a sack full of wet bricks instead. But it's official: I've got a bona fide boner for my boss. Shit, another _guy_, even.

But he's not "just another guy." If he was just a good looking man, that'd be one thing. I can appreciate a good looking person of any sex without making a big deal about my own preference. But Tseng is different. Sure, the high cheekbones, that long, silken black hair, and those dark almond-shaped eyes sure don't do anything to Help. But it's more than that. He's my mentor, my leader. Everything I know about being a Turk I've learned from him. It's only natural that I'd want his approval, right?

Which I'm not getting. So when he pushes me, I have a natural, inborn reaction to be an asshole. I can't help it. I spent years building a protective asshole bubble around myself; that's 25 years of instinct I'm fighting against. It's been a long time since I cared about anyone else but me, and I'm not very good at the whole team-mentality. Relying on myself used to be hard enough. Now _other_ people rely on me, too. It takes some getting used to. Tseng is bound and determined to beat that into me—literally, if he has to—or he'll kill me trying. And _that_ is _not_ a metaphor.

So now it's obvious to see why I'm the most pathetic motherfucker on the planet.

I sat with my head still buried in my hands, listening to the Five O'clock Exodus of cars squealing out of the parking garage until the engine's roars died down and only the occasional screech was heard in the distance. Figures this would be the first night in weeks that I didn't have to work late. Sure, I could take the transit back home and three hours later end up somewhere within a four-mile radius of my apartment, but it was just easier to sit here and mope on the hood of my car. Less energy required.

I heard the familiar purr of an engine nearby and I peeked through my fingers to see a little black sports car idling in front of me. I was determined to ignore it, but the engine revved once, sending a little vibration trembling through my body. I looked up and stared at the tinted windshield with all the enthusiasm I give at one of our team meetings...the ones I actually stay awake for.

The tinted passenger side window slid down with a soft little whine to gradually reveal two black, highly amused eyes. They were about the last eyes I wanted to be looking at at the moment.

"Need a jump start or something?" Tseng asked.

I shook my head. "Nah. It's just flooded. Should be okay here in a few."

The black eyes narrowed skeptically. "Want me to take a look at it?"

Oh great, the knight in black armor here to rescue the helpless damsel. Suppressing my instinct to roll my eyes, I ground out, "No. I'll be fine." The bastard probably _did_ know how to fix my car. He knows how to do every-damn-thing. That didn't mean I was going to let him. I wasn't in the mood for company no matter how damn hot they were.

Something between a frown and a smirk curled at the edge of Tseng's mouth, another expression unique only to him. Anyone one else would've just looked like they were in pain. "So...you just going to sit there all night, then?"

I nodded. "Yep. That's the plan. At least I'll be on time tomorrow."

Tseng released a very controlled sigh but didn't look particularly fazed by my comment. "Get in. I'll give you a ride."

"No, it's OK you don't have to—"

"Reno? Get. In." The Look.

Sheesh. And this was his _generous_ side.

I hesitated for a second, then with a tired sigh, I balled up my uniform sport coat—something I knew would drive Tseng bananas—and tucked it under my arm as I slid off the hood of my car. My feet touched concrete and then I heard—

_BANG!_

I jumped and spun around, ready to fight, or hit the deck, or run like hell, whichever the case called for. When you carry a weapon for a living—and use it to _stay_ living—you learn to appreciate your jumpy reflexes. But they can also make you look stupid at the most inopportune times. This was one of them.

The hood on my car had snapped back into its original form. I glared at the traitorous thing and thought about pounding the crap out of it anyway.

I heard Tseng clear his throat. I whipped back around to look at Tseng through his windshield as he was unsuccessfully smothering a smirk behind a gloved fist. Ha ha. Very funny.

Mortified, I scowled darkly at nothing in particular feeling the tips of my ears burn, knowing my face was the same shade of red as my hair. I _hate_ being a redhead.

Yanking open the passenger door of his car, I threw myself down in the seat and sank down low, wishing to become One with the Corinthian leather. Tseng paused a moment to make sure I was settled, then tore off through the parking garage. I sat there feeling awkward in the otherwise quiet car, furiously staring out the passenger window to avoid looking anywhere in Tseng's direction. We were clear out of the parking garage and sitting at a traffic light before he finally said anything to me again.

"That..._thing_ acting up on you again?" he asked casually.

"It's a car, not a _thing_. It's a classic."

"A classic piece of junk. Why don't you get something that's not older than you?"

"I like _that_ car..." I sniffed. I take insults to my car personally, even if the thing is ugly as sin and more Bondo than actual car at this point. That car is one of the few things, if not the _only_ thing, that I have left that has any sort of history with me. I'm not a sentimental person. I've always been too transient to have that luxury. Besides, I don't like to keep things around that remind me of my past. But that car is different. It's carried me farther than anything else has so far, and piece of junk that it is, it's still more reliable than anyone I've ever known...until now.

"Wilma and me have been together a long time."

"Wilma?" he said. "Where'd you come up with a name like Wilma?"

I shrugged. "My first girlfriend's name was Wilma. She had a big ass. Seemed logical at the time."

Tseng snorted. "And you wonder why you're single."

"No I don't..." I muttered softly, crossing my arms in a huff.

We drove along in silence for a while, heading South through Midgar toward the sector where I live. I was determined to keep my mouth shut. I wasn't interested in small talk. I was still brooding about our meeting earlier today, having left his office with my tail tucked firmly between my legs..._again_. Now, our close proximity and Tseng's sudden good humor and occasional glances toward my direction were unnerving.

Maybe it was my scowl, or my unusual silence that finally prompted him to ask, "Rough day?"

"You should know," I thought...then realized I'd actually said it. There I go again. I love the taste of my foot. It's a good thing, because I'm always sticking them in my mouth.

Tseng downshifted into second, turning a corner so fast I rammed my nose into the passenger window—with no apology from him—and thought for sure the wheels were going to lift off the pavement and leave my stomach somewhere back in traffic. Not so long ago, I would have thought he was going to try and kill us both, but I've become accustomed to the way Tseng drives. Tseng calls it "creative driving." I call it "time to pick a religion."

The sudden change in direction got me though.

"Uh, Tseng...I live _that_ way," I said, jerking my thumb behind us.

"I _know_ where you live," he said with a smirk so wide it was almost close to being a real smile. "We're going out for a drink. I wouldn't mind one, and you look like you need one."

A drink, huh? That caught my attention. I'd have a drink with the Devil himself if he asked. And he was asking. The only thing that could make drinking better is not paying for it, so I decided to push my luck. "You buying?" I asked, feeling my usual cocky grin settle back on my face where it belongs.

He considered this briefly. "I guess since I'm not giving you a choice...yes."

Score. _Now_ he was speaking my language.


	2. Chapter 2

**"**So tell me about _Wilma_," Tseng said conversationally. We'd pretty much ran out of things at work to gripe about, and I suppose this was his half-assed attempt to fill the conversational lull between pulls.

I set my glass down on the table and said, "Wilma? What about her?"

"How did you meet?"

What the fuck did he care? "I 'met' her by the side of a road." I said. "Someone had abandoned her there."

Tseng looked slightly surprised. "Really. Well, that's...altruistic of you."

"Well, clearly nobody else wanted her. She was a mess. She had this horrible death rattle to her. But I managed to get her home and nursed her back to health. More or less." I looked at him and grinned. "Just needed a good lube or two if you know what I mean."

Tseng looked at me like I'd just killed a kitten. "Reno!"

"_What_?"

"We are talking about your _girlfriend_, aren't we?"

I blinked through the smoky haze hanging in the bar. "My _what_?"

"_Your first girlfriend, Wilma,_" he said louder, as if shouting at me would make me understand what the fuck he was talking about.

Girlfriend? What girlfriend?

_You don't do girls..._

"The one you named your car after? Because she had a big...tail end."

Then it hit me. I really should write down my own material. I forget half of it right after I say it, and I forget the other half before I even get to it.

"Ooh!" I laughed. "My god, you bought that? I named my car Wilma because every time I get in it, I wonder, 'wilma car start?'" I laughed again when he face-palmed and groaned. "That was, what normal people call, making a 'joke.'" I made air quotes around "joke."

He rolled his eyes and shot me an annoyed look. But it wasn't _The Look_; the murderous rage was missing.

I said, "C'mon, does _anyone_ know a 'Wilma?' In real life, anyway, not the cartoon character. Who would name their kid 'Wilma?'"

Tseng tossed the contents of his glass back in his throat. He actually looked disappointed. More than just the butt of an anticlimactic punchline, I mean. Not sure why. Suddenly my romantic history is the most interesting thing to talk about? A conversation about dirt would be more interesting than that.

Still, I felt compelled not to be a total jerk.

"My first girlfriend's name was Angel," I volunteered morosely. "She was anything but. And I was worse."

Tseng grunted thoughtfully as if my last statement had spoken volumes. This is one of the reasons it pays off to be a guy. Grunts, nods, and snorts are all we need to communicate.

I reached for the communal pack of cigarettes from the middle of the table and flipped open the lid. Two hours ago, this had been a brand new pack. There were four left now. I had smoked most of them, and I was surprised to see Tseng—Mr. HardPec BodySlam—indulging himself. It was clear he smokes to be social. I smoke to stay sane.

It's not that I resent Tseng for being healthy and good-looking. I blame him for being too good looking for me to fucking _ignore_. And I don't need a lecture about my health; I know I'm one bad habit after another. I don't expect to outlive the life of my organs. I'm also a selfish enough bastard to make sure nobody else can use them either.

I shook one out, placed it between my lips and motioned to Buff CheekBounce across from me. He nodded agreeably.

I was feeling just bold enough to do the light-both-at once / hand-one-off maneuver, like you see the leading gentleman do for ladies in old black and white movies. Hey, if this was my once chance to act out my fantasy, I was going to enjoy it. I gave them a quick puff and gave one to Tseng. He took it and smiled at me and immediately sucked on it. It was the closest thing to sex I've had in a long time.

Quick! Think of something else! Think...sports!

_Crap! You don't know anything about sports! What sport?_

Uh, chocobo racing?

_Seriously? __That's__ what you come up with? Is that even technically a sport when the stupid bird does all the work? _

"How old were you?" Tseng asked idly, leaning back in his chair and squinting through the gray-blue smoke with that billowed out between his words.

"I was 16...17, maybe," I said. As a sort of maudlin afterthought, I added: "She was my _last_ girlfriend, too." I tried not to let the direction of the conversation affect my body language. We were getting dangerously close to a subject that I rarely think about...and _never_ talk about.

"Have you been with anyone since?" he said.

What the hell was that supposed to mean? I coughed out a laugh. "Geeze, Tseng, are you trying to hook me up with someone?" I could feel myself blushing so I quickly took a drag on my cigarette and blew it out in front of my face to veil my reaction.

He sat back against his chair and smiled apologetically. "Sorry. I was just curious."

_Bi-curious?_

"No, nobody else. I made enough mistakes with the first one." I quickly added, "What about you_?_ Ever have anyone ruin-er, _special_, in your life?"

He laughed softly, smoke puffing out of his nostrils like a dragon. "I met a girl when I first became a Turk… I was a young, stupid kid. And she was even younger."

"Jail bait, huh?"

"Yes. Well. No." He shook his head ruefully. "It wasn't like that. We just talked a lot. Or...I would talk and she would run away."

"Sounds..." —Don't say complicated! Anything but complicated— "...complicated."

Tseng shrugged slightly. "What's complicated? I'm a sociopathic over-protective control freak, and she's a sweet, timid young lady who despises me and everything I stand for."

Ouch... I took another casual drag on my cigarette. "_Hates_? Present tense?"

He nodded. "I see her now and then. We have an understanding: She allows me to check up on her once in a while without trying to punch me in the crotch if I don't choke the life out of every living thing that comes within ten feet of her. No complications."

"Holy shit. I thought I had relationship issues."

He grinned. "Care for another round?" he said, nodding at the empty glass I was absently playing with.

I looked down at it as if noticing it for the first time. "How many've we had, now?" I was feeling soft but not drunk. My speech was still fairly clear. I was trying to not get completely shit-faced in front of my incredibly attractive boss just in case I did something monumentally stupid I would never forgive myself for. _Again_.

He asked, "Does it matter?"

I shrugged. "No."

Tseng caught the cocktail waitress' attention and motioned her over with a casual flick of his wrist. "Is it still Happy Hour?" he asked her when she arrived.

"Yep," she said.

You gotta love the bars in Midgar. And if you don't, I'll love 'em for ya. We could be facing Armageddon with no food, no fuel, no water, and we would still have fully-stocked bars here. There are 3 for 1 specials, all-night happy hours. I even heard of a place that offers discounts for alcoholics, but I haven't found it yet. What everywhere else calls alcoholism, Midgards call it self-preservation. Just drink your beer and shut the fuck up 'cause life doesn't get any better than this.

The waitress said, "Actually, happy 'hour' lasts all night...unless it rains."

Tseng looked dubious. He glanced over at me for some kind of clue. I saw where this was going; he was about to be the victim of English-not-as-a-first-language joke. I was feeling just vindictive enough to let him fall for it.

I shrugged at a loss to help him.

Tseng said, "What is it when it rains?"

"Wet!" She snorted.

Wow, that was even worse than I thought it would be. I pretended to find something interesting on the table at that exact moment to avoid bursting out laughing; I didn't want to give our server the impression that she was at all funny. It was best not to encourage it.

It's not that our server was unlikable. I'm sure someone did. By default, she was the most beautiful woman in the whole bar. What she lacked in charm, she more than made up for it in hair products. And she had the straightest teeth I've ever seen for a horse.

But she was serving us drinks as fast as we could throw them back, and that made her an absolute goddess.

Tseng frowned. "I do not understand." He exaggerated his accent, pulling the I'm-A-Poor-Unsuspecting-Foreigner card. "There is no rain in Midgar because of the Plate."

Her smile melted a bit. "It's just a joke. You know... What is it when rains? It's wet!"

"_But it does not rain in Midgar_," he insisted.

She suddenly looked incredibly uncomfortable. I know that feeling.

"Could we get four more," I said, coming to the poor girl's rescue. I flashed her my most charming grin.

"Sure thing, sweetie," she said and seemed to relax again. "Did you want four more not including the free ones? Or just two more with the two free ones?"

"Surprise us," I said and winked at her.

She blushed and smiled back at me, then nodded and left our table.

"She'll make a fine ex-wife for someone someday," I said.

"Be nice," Tseng admonished, though not very effectively through the laughter he was barely managing to hold back.

"_Me_? Be nice? _You_ scared her half to death."

"Only half. She would have lived."

"You need to work on your sense of humor."

"She wasn't funny. And _you_ let me fall for her stupid punch line."

"How exactly is that my fault? I didn't know what she was gonna say. After all, it doesn't rain in Midgar." I grinned at him and he glared back at me.

Our waitress came back over after only a moment and dropped off four filled-to-the-rim glasses, two in front of me, two in front of Tseng. I winked at her again as she left. I began to think that this was definitely the last round, though, because she didn't look nearly as bad as when we'd first walked in here.

"What are you doing?" Tseng said.

I shook my head. "What?"

"Are you flirting with her?"

"It's getting us drinks faster, isn't it?"

He scoffed. "Leading on an innocent girl?" He tsked and shook his head.

I cut him a look. "Bullshit. She's no more 'innocent' than I am. How often do you think she flirts, or shows a little more cleavage, or lets some guy pinch her ass to get a bigger tip? Innocence is dead." I picked up my drink and sipped at it.

Tseng leaned forward on his forearms. "You really believe that?"

I snorted into my whiskey. "You're kidding, right? You _do_ know who we work for."

"Oh, I'm not talking about _us_," he said. "Our hands have been dipped in so much filth, we should be quarantined. But that's a price we've chosen to pay for our own reasons. I don't think that the rest of the world is fundamentally _evil_, though."

I took a big gulp of my whiskey and set the glass back down. "No, I'm not saying its _evil_. Look. We live on a planet where a single company—a _power_ company of all things—was able to bankroll the government into owning a majority of public services so that Shin-Ra had a controlling interest on pretty much everything in this whole town. Then everyone acted like they were real surprised when the government went bankrupt. Shin-Ra 'generously' offered to bail them out..._and bought the fucking Army. _What kind of retards allow a for-profit business to own their own goddamn military? Well, I'll tell you: _We_ are. 'We, the People.' _We_ elected the greedy douchsacks that decided it was a good idea to allow businesses to invest an unlimited amount of money in a political interest. 15 fucking years later, we live with a million-ton metal plate over our heads because nobody thought it was a good idea to, oh, I don't know, maybe say object a little when they were building it? That's not _innocence_. It's not even _ignorance_. _That's apathy._ A big giant Who Gives A Fuck in the failure that is Humanity."

I stabbed out my cigarette that I'd smoked down to the filter. I picked out another and lit it. Tseng watched me warily.

"And _you_ don't have a problem collecting a paycheck from them. "

"Hey, I have to eat, too. What the hell else am I supposed to do?"

Tseng scoffed softly. "There's an old Wutain saying: _Be_ the change you want to see in the world."

"Oh yeah? What exactly should I be changing, _Boss_? You already yell at me enough for not following orders, so don't proselytize at me, yo. _You_ hired _me_!"

A little smile played at Tseng's lips. He looked at me like he knew a horrible secret about me and was dangling it over my head like a piñata.

_A piñata of shame! _

"You want to know why I hired you?"

I eyeballed him skeptically. "I'm not sure..."

"Because you use the words 'proselytize' and 'yo' in the same sentence." He grinned and toasted me before taking a gulp.

"I know for a fact I didn't use those words in the interview. My vocabulary didn't get good until you and me met."

He rolled his eyes at me. "I liked your face."

_Hahahaha, what? _

I pointed to my general face area. "This one?"

Tseng nodded. I could tell this was amusing the hell out of him, but I could feel my face get hot again. It took real effort not to crawl under the table and die there.

"I hired you because you're way smarter than you look."

_Hey!_

"Hey!"

He laughed at me again. That goddamn ingratiating sexy-as-hell laugh. "That's actually a compliment...for what _we_ do. People don't expect you to be as sharp as you are. It surprises them. I know it did me."

"I'm...not...sure how to take that."

He leaned on his hand and blinked slowly at me. "Now you know how I feel about _you_."

Now I knew I was drunk because I was convinced Tseng was fucking with me. Like maybe he'd figured out I have the hots for him and he was just mocking me. My piñata of shame was about to burst, and his sick little headgame starting to piss me off.

I rolled my eyes and glared back at him. "Can we rewind this conversation to a point where I knew what we were talking about? I think it was earlier today when you were telling me what a fuck-up I am. I understood _that_."

Tseng leaned forward and spoke in a conspiratorial tone: "Reno, you are in a unique position that allows you to be something more than just another ant in the farm. The planet is full of idiots; if I'd needed one, _you_ wouldn't be here. You have the capacity to be a good leader."

"Yeah, yeah. If I apply myself. Like I haven't heard that my whole fucking life."

"No. If you _listen to me and do what I tell you_. I know how to play the system; I didn't get where I am by accident."

I blinked. That was not the answer I'd expected. But if that was unexpected, what he said next _really_ got my attention.

He said, "This stupid little shit I bully you with every day—the lateness, your attitude, your carelessness—that's exactly what it all is: _stupid little shit_. Yes, we're a military company so we have standards. But those standards are important because I need you sharp and I need you on-point so that when we encounter the _Big Deal Shit_—and we _will_—you can hold your own and I won't have to worry about you getting yourself killed. I do not have the time or the emotional fortitude to deal with losing you. I _need_ you."

_Ho. Lee. She. It. Did he just really __say__ that?_

I sat and stared at him in stunned silence a moment not giving a shit how stupid the expression on my face was undoubtedly looking. I worked up to trying to say something, but I didn't get out the words before he went on.

His tone, his eyes softened. "Do you trust me?"

This wasn't a question of my loyalty to Shin-Ra. This was a question of my loyalty to _him._ Shinra might sign my paychecks, but I work for Tseng. No question.

I nodded dumbly. "Yeah," I rasped. Swallowing the desert in my throat as I felt a blush creep up my neck, I added, "Of course." And promptly shut my mouth in case I get the urge to profess anything else to him.

"Then _stop fighting me_." He smirked and looked down at my hand. "And let me have my way." He leaned over, plucked the forgotten smoldering cigarette out of my fingers and inhaled deeply from it. He stuck the filter-end of the smoke back between my fingers. I stared at it then made sure to take a big deep drag off it myself. It was still wet with Tseng's spit.

_Quick, say something pithy before you freaking ejaculate under the table._

"Tseng, were you always this delightful and I just never noticed?"

One delicate eyebrow inched higher on his forehead. "Oh, I'm a barrel of laughs once you get to know me," he said.

Something about the way he said that felt hollow. I was feeling a little brave, probably from the alcohol. "Does anyone really _know_ you?"

"Oh, sure. Wait...do you mean anyone that doesn't want to punch me in the crotch?"

"I guess?"

"Oh. Then no." He stared at me as he gulped the last of his drink, set it down and licked his lips defiantly. That was totally an invitation.

"You, uh. Looking for a volunteer?"

Sly little smirk appeared. "You sure? You might end up wanting to punch me in the crotch."

I said, "I'm pretty sure punching you in the crotch is not what I have in mind."

_Bad Reno! Bad! Bad bad bad! Sit! Stay! Beg... _

He didn't even flinch. Not an eyebrow twitch, not an awkward glance, not a single muscle movement. He just sighed and said, "What do you want to know?"

What did I want to know? Million gil question, there. This was my opportunity to finally extort a single piece of trivia from Tseng, the man who turned me on to men. Well, _one_ man, anyway. _Him_. Yet every day I look at that strong face, those dark eyes, looking for one defect, one sign of vulnerability I can exploit, and every day all I find is mystery upon mystery. Well, fine. We'll start small. _Very_ small.

"What's with the dot?"

Tseng blinked vacantly at me. "What dot?"

"The one on your forehead."

He frowned. "I have something on my forehead? What is it?" He picked up a spoon and tried to look at his reflection. He looked horrified and tried to scrub at it. "How long has _that_ been there? Reno, why didn't you _tell_ me?" He glared angrily at me.

I opened my mouth but no words came out. He grinned. I sighed.

That was actually pretty funny. Maybe Tseng does have a sense of humor. Hell, he must, he hired me. "I probably deserved that."

"You totally deserved that," he said.

"So are you gonna tell me?"

"Tell you what?"

"_About the dot on your head._"

"I have a dot on my head?"

I rolled my eyes, but couldn't help the small laugh that escaped me. "Fine. Fine. I see where this is going."

Tseng chucked softly. "Not yet. Ask me something else."

"You're gonna have to help me out here, yo. I don't wanna sit here all fucking night grilling you for details about your life you're not going to answer."

_Yes you do._

Tseng breathed deeply, laced his fingers on the table. He craned his head back and stared at the ceiling. While he was giving it a think, I picked up my last drink and started gulping it like water.

"I was married once."

Asshole. He did that on purpose.

I choked and sputtered feeling my scorched esophagus rebel. My sinuses burned, my eyes watered like faucets and it was almost a full minute of watching my life flash before of my eyes before I realized Tseng was slapping me on the back. Finally I was able to swallow in a huge breath of sweet, delicious air and I belched loudly and gracelessly. "Bastard," I garbled out, wiping my mouth with the back of my sleeve.

"Sorry," he said, but that grin said he was full of it. "Are you all right? "

I shook my head and jabbed my fingers into my stinging eyes. I always knew he was going to be the death of me, and would've said so if my lungs weren't busy trying to learn how to breathe whiskey.

I took another moment or two to recover, and it occurred to me that Tseng's hand was still hovering on my shoulder. I wondered what he'd do if I passed out unexpectedly, or had an aneurism. Is there any kind of medical condition that requires an emergency blow-job?

My curiosity got the best of me. "You? _Married_?" I said glaring back at him. "For how long?"

"Three years," he said.

"How old were you?"

He shrugged. "19...20...21. I think. I'm a little blurry on details. It was a long time ago."

I realized I didn't know his real age. Tseng has one of those eternally youthful faces that Wutain people are genetically blessed with. I mean, I knew he was older than me. But he didn't look _much_ older than me. On the other hand, he usually _acted_ like he was older than President Shinra.

"What happened?" I asked.

"You mean besides being young and stupid?"

"Well, yeah, that's a given."

He smirked, this time much more darkly. "She ran off with my lover," he said.

_Whiskey Tango Foxtrot?_

I blinked at him like an average Dalmatian with the intelligence of a bean sprout. His grin widened, eyes glinted, and I even thought I detected a faint blush. "Close your mouth Reno," he said. "You look like the entrance of the Mythril Mining cave."

His _lover_? What _kind_ of lover? Well, duh, how many different kinds of lovers are there. Bummer. Guess his wife had been a lesbian. That or Tseng's lover had been a... No way. No. Way. Tseng didn't swing that way. Hell, to my knowledge Tseng didn't _swing_ at all!

By the time my brain had assimilated all this, the cocktail waitress had returned and it was too late to respond. "Need anything else guys?" she asked.

Tseng eyed me warily, shook his head and remarked, "No, I believe I've had enough." I was still staring at Tseng when they both turned to me and waited for my response. At least my mouth was closed now.

Taking the hint, I shook my head to answer it and felt the room spin as if my eyes had yet to catch up with the sudden movement. "Ah...no," I said. "I'm done." Know when to say when.

The waitress set our tab on the corner of the table and left again. I made no attempt to move for it—hey, Tseng _said_ he was buying. "Are you ready to leave?" he said slowly as he peeled off a few gil from a money clip and put it back in his front pocket.

I shrugged, not wanting to cut the evening short but not really in a position to protest it, either. He was my ride, after all. "Whenever you are... You OK to drive?"

"Not in the least. You?"

I was tempted to say yes just to get the chance to melt into that leather drivers' seat of his car and abuse it for a while. Wilma's a great car; you'd be surprised how fast you get used to the smell of burning oil and gas fumes. But there's not a self-respecting male on the Planet who would turn down an offer to drive Tseng's car. Even as I went to nod my head, though, the room tilted at an angle and I had to hold the edge of the table to keep from falling out of the booth. Probably not a good indication I should be driving either. "Nope."

He considered this a moment. "I don't care where we go," he said. "but I'm not staying here anymore."

"Oh, it's not _that_ bad here. The roaches keep mostly to the men's room."

"There's nothing wrong with the bar, but your _admirer_ is beginning to creep me out."

"Oh, give her a break. She only has the one good eye. Can you blame her for wanting to use it to look at me?"

"Did you look at the bar tab?"

"No, why would I? You're paying."

"She wrote her phone number on it for you. And her hours. And her address. And she's been trying to signal me to give it to you. Maybe you should get a ride home from her."

I self-consciously slipped down into my seat. That was pretty much the opposite of funny.

Tseng snorted and picked up the bar tab, folded it in half and leaned over and stuck it in my front jacket pocket. "I'm sure _she'd_ like that."

I braved a peek over at the bar where my not-so-lovely admirer was eyeing me like a vulture circling road-kill. She smiled at me and I felt my balls try to crawl back up into my body. I attempted to plaster on a grin—which I'm sure it came out more like a grimace—and gave her a casual nod as I stood up and waited for Tseng. She gave me the international pantomime for "call me."

"Help," I said to Tseng as nonchalant as I could. "Please. Help me."

Tseng gracefully stood up, cool as ever, like he hadn't heard me at all.

"Bail me out. Please. I'll do anything you want me to. I promise."

He stood up and faced me, his shoulder touching my shoulder. The he leaned down and said, "I heard you the first time. Idiot." I felt his lips brush the outer fuzz on my ear. Then I felt his hand pat me softly on the ass.

My mind did a memory dump. A Brain Screen of Death.

Tseng escorted me to the front door with a hand to the small of my back. I pretended not to notice the waitress trying to wave at me and then turn away awkwardly when she noticed how Tseng was hovering near me. I concentrated on walking. Tseng pushed the door open from behind me. As we walked out into the evening air, he said to me in a low, amused voice, "That's two you owe me."


	3. Chapter 3

We stumbled out into the night. The perpetual blanket of humidity that makes all of Midgar one big giant steam bath punched me in the face. The smells of food and garbage and piss and mold rushed up my nostrils and down my throat, wringing my gag-reflex like a squeeze toy. I felt my feet crunch over broken asphalt and glass, and I staggered a bit to avoid stepping on a dead rat.

Ah, no place like home.

I'm not sure what I'd do with myself if I didn't have the constant dull headache and mild nausea I get from living here reminding me why I haven't become a full-time alcoholic. I can only handle throwing up so often before it's just not fun anymore. Thing is, get me out of here and I'm no better. My first time out of Midgar I got sent on an assignment in the mountains, and I freaking fainted like a chick in a corset-ripper novel with a "case of the _vapours_." The doc who looked me over said it was lack of oxygen due to the high altitude. I'm convinced that the toxic waste dump that is my body just didn't know what to do with all that wholesome goodness all at once.

Anyway, I digress.

Walking in a relatively straight line, I mulled over how to tactfully thank Tseng for bailing me out of the bar from my fangirl. My mind was still boggling over the fact that his hand had been on my ass not five minutes ago. "Tseng, uh, thanks for—" ...what? Feeling me up? Making me question my sexuality? Getting me drunk enough that any one of these sound like a good answer?

"Shh!" Tseng shot out an arm across my chest and came to a dead stop. Startled out of my thoughts, I looked up at him to see him staring intently at the parking lot. I followed his gaze. Two silhouettes were stalking around in the dark next to his car, one big shadow and one smaller shadow. I saw Tseng stealthily check for his firearm out of the corner of my eye. I remembered leaving mine in my locker at work. I generally hate wearing a firearm when I'm off duty. It's not because I'm trying to keep a low profile. I mean, look at me...I couldn't keep a low profile if I dressed like a ninja at the bottom of a coal mine at midnight. Guns are just uncomfortable. They either poke me in the spine or stab me in the ribs, and I don't like to make my skeleton suffer unnecessarily. It has a hard enough job keeping me on my feet.

But today that decision to leave my gun behind might come back to bite me in the ass. Looks like I was doing this _mano-a-mano_ if it came down to it.

Tseng signaled with a nod and we started walking again toward the car. Tseng was in total stealth mode; I couldn't even hear his footsteps right next to me, at least not over the shuffling of my own feet. Fortunately, the two shadows by the car were making enough of their own noise to drown out any incidental sounds we were making. Amateurs. Clearly they failed Smash-and-Grab 101.

Tseng took point by the hood of the car by the passenger side to my right, I stood by the driver's side front tire trying to look aloof and as sober as possible.

"Can we help you, _gentlemen_?" Tseng deadpanned.

The man who had been fumbling with the driver's side door looked up at Tseng, surprised to see us there. The dude was _big_. Like pro-wrestler big. He had more neck than head, and he dwarfed me by at least 3 inches and probably bench pressed guys like me everyday just to warm up.

I swallowed hard, but kept my cool.

Tseng once told me size doesn't matter for a Turk, what's important is attitude. Our name and reputation alone are enough to intimidate most people, the rest comes down to character. Even if people don't recognize us right away, all it takes is projecting a little confidence. Be a big dog in a small dog's body. I'm a regular fucking dachshund: I may look ridiculous, but if there's one thing I have, it's attitude. We're the big dogs in this territory...which for us our _territory_ just happens to be all of Midgar. I'll pee on you to prove it. Unless you don't require electricity, that is, in which case, eh, fuck you and good luck with that.

"What the fuck do you want?" the guy growled in a thick city accent.

Tseng didn't take his eyes off the big guy. "I suggest you step away from my car."

The big guy straightened up and puffed out his barrel chest. "You playin' a fuckin' game here, _bro_?"

"Yes," Tseng hissed. "It's called 'how fast can you run away before you get hurt'."

"What did you say? I don't think I understood. You _threatening_ us, _bro_? Is that what you heard, Vinny?"

"Yeah, Sal, that's what I heard." The side-kick stepped over beside him from the trunk and slipped his hand into his coat pocket. "Look, Wang Chung, I'll speak slow so you fuckin' understand what I'm sayin': Back. The fuck. Off. You and the mute copper-top over there. This is our car and we're not leaving this goddamn parking lot without it."

Mute? _Me?_ I thought about asking him to put that in writing so I could so I could SPAM Tseng's inbox with it when he tells me I don't know how to shut up.

Also, _Sal_ and _Vinny_? _For reals_? Did we just wander into some kind of gangster sitcom? _The Wiseguy & Weasel Show. Starring Sal Thickneck and his side-kick, Vinny Wankpull. Guest starring: Two Badass Motherfuckers Who Kick Their Ass_.

I snickered out loud. Everyone stopped, including Tseng, and looked over at me as if I'd just farted at a funeral.

Vinny shot a look over at me and said, "Got a problem, _asshole_?"

Hm. On second thought, maybe Sal was the side-kick. After all, it's not fair of me to stereotype.

"Nah, man, we're cool," I said breezily as I waved him back with a placating gesture. "We're just talking, here. Nothing to get upset about... _Right, bro?_ I'm sure this is just a big misunderstanding, so let's all just calm the fuck down for a sec. We can even go in the bar and have a drink while we sort this out, if ya want." I nodded over at Tseng. "He's buyin'."

They didn't exactly break out the champagne and cupcakes, but the tension wound down a half-a-notch. They both looked more confused than anything. I glanced at Tseng. He had just as much of a WTF expression on his face as the other two. For the moment, everyone was still alert but standing down as I had the floor.

But goddamn it, I just could _not_ resist poking that bee's nest.

I turned back to the two goons and said, "I just have one question first: which one of you shitnoodles is the bitch?"

Well, _that_ did it.

The big guy's teeth flashed in a cartoon-like snarl as he lunged across the hood of Tseng's car at me. I took a step back away from the car, and Tseng sidestepped one pace to his left, leaving a gap between us. Tseng then latched on to Sal's coat sleeve and, using the momentum of the bigger man's bulk, dragged him across the hood of the car. I saw him go down over by the passenger side a pile of flailing limbs, and I knew that, even though he easily outweighed Tseng by 50 pounds _at least,_ Tseng would have no problem from there taking care of himself.

Meanwhile, the little guy gallantly brandished some sort of metal telescoping baton from his coat pocket, kicking off the bumper of the car to catapult himself at me. I would've been able to dodge the guy just fine except that his asshole friend kicked the side of my foot in the midst of all his flailing as I took another step back. I didn't fall but it did distract me, leaving me open for an attack. Vinny swung his wand at my head, and I blocked him with my forearm...and immediately regretted it. A flash of pain surged from my wrist through my body where the wand whacked against my wrist bone through my shirt, and I saw sparks. _Literally_. Every muscle in my body seized up for half a second, but not out of choice: I'd just been tased. I wheezed as my heart rebooted.

"MOTHERFUCKER!" I yelled when I was able. It must have been a fairly low current, because I recovered pretty quick. But now adrenaline coursed through me and burned right through any anesthetic effects I had from the alcohol in my blood. I was pissed and in berserker mode, so it was time to play dirty. I launched myself at Vinny, pulled him in a tight hug, and bit his ear. _Hard_.

Vinny screamed and pushed at me, trying to get at me with that damn stick again, but I held on to him. I caught his arm and wrenched the weapon out of his hand, twisting it in a way wrists aren't supposed to go then shoved him back. He charged at me again. I pointed the end of the rod at his throat and he stopped immediately. Looks like he'd been on the business-end of this thing more than once, too.

I spit his blood out on to the pavement. He covered his ear with his hand, and through his fingers seeped a dark red. He stared at me horrified. "Crazy, stupid son-of-a—"

I took a step toward him, jabbing the electro-magnetic rod toward his neck again. He took another a step back. It got very quiet between the four of us, and then I heard a distinct "_CLICK_" over by the side of the car. I didn't take my eyes off Vinny, but I knew Tseng had drawn his gun and was most likely pointing it at the big guy's head.

"Leave. _Now_," Tseng growled. Seconds later, footsteps clattered away on the pavement.

Vinny froze like a computer glitch. He was still sizing me up, trying to figure out a way to take me. Tseng walked up beside me and put his gun to his temple.

"Vinny. _Let it go,_ man," Sal said at the other end of the parking lot.

I jumped toward him again, parried with the baton, and barked like a dog just for the hell of it. He flinched and finally turned and walked away. "Son of a fucking whore!" he growled over his shoulder.

"Oh, you know her?" I said. "Tell the bitch I said 'hi' when you see her again. Also that she owes me child support...for the last 23 years. Plus interest!"

"Burn in hell, you fucking lunatic!" Sal shouted down the street once Vinny caught up with him.

"See you there, _bro_!" I shouted back, and as they ran off, I threw my head back and howled like a wolf.

I felt Tseng take me by the elbow. Maybe he thought I really was about to come unglued and chase off after them. We stood there a moment until the two goons were well out of earshot and long gone. I wiped my mouth off on my sleeve and realized I still tasted blood, and I nearly gagged. I spit again.

"Ugh! God, I can't believe I did that! Blaaaaaah!"

Tseng reached into his jacket and handed me a clean handkerchief. I took it and stuffed it in my mouth.

He watched me with amusement dancing in his eyes, barely restrained laughter just dying to burst out.

"What?" I said, when I had thoroughly scrubbed off my tongue.

"_Shitnoodle?_" he said. He went over to the side of the car, laughing as he slid down to the pavement in front of it. I joined him on the ground and told him my idea for the gangster sitcom. We wheezed with laughter for, like, two minutes.

"I love playing the psycho," I said.

"You were born for the role," he said grinning at me.

"Thanks," I drawled. I scrubbed off my tongue again and decided I needed something else more drastic to get the offensive taste in my mouth to go away. I reached into my blazer to retrieve the last cigarette. I tore off the filter, lit it, took a deep drag on it, and passed it to Tseng.

"You all right?" he asked.

"Dude fucked up my wrist," I said, dropping the rod in my lap and pulling back my sleeve to survey the damage. "Stupid thing is some kind of electric shock prod." I looked down at my right arm. A big purple welt surrounded by a large bruise bloomed around the part of the wrist bone that sticks out. Thankfully, the shock had been absorbed by most of my clothing, otherwise Tseng might be scraping me off the sidewalk right now.

"Is it broken?"

I carefully moved my hand, flexed the fingers and slowly rotated my wrist. It hurt like hell, but it was moving. "No. I don't think so."

"Well, you certainly got him back," he grinned. "And you got a new...whatever that thing is." He took another drag before passing me the cigarette again. "Of course, you realize the most hilarious part of this, don't you?"

I looked over at him and frowned. I couldn't possibly imagine. "No?"

He sighed wearily then grinned like a lunatic, and I almost accused him of stealing my part. "This isn't my car."

"_What?_"

"I parked over _there_." He nodded to another, similar-ish black car two spaces over. Same make but a slightly older model than Tseng's. "I was wondering why my car alarm hadn't gone off..."

I haven't laughed that hard in years.

When we could breathe again, Tseng said sheepishly, "Eh, it's dark. My eyes hadn't adjusted yet. I realized it about half way through the fight when I managed to wrangle these away from the big guy." He dropped a set of keys in my hand attached to a pewter key chain in the shape of a weird tribal-styled reptile-looking thing. A lizard? A dinosaur, or dragon, maybe? The letters, "S-A-L-V-A-T-O-R-E" were engraved on the back.

"C'mon, Reno," Tseng finally said as he managed to drag himself up off the ground. "We're obviously both too out of it to drive."

"Where we goin'?" I asked, looking up at him as he offered me his hand. I took with my good hand.

"My place," he said, pulling me up. "I'm only about four blocks from here. We'll come back after we sober up and I'll take you home then." He patted me on the shoulder and smiled. "Let's go get some ice on that wrist of yours."

* * *

This is possibly the most politically IN-correct thing I've ever written. I would apologize if I wasn't laughing my ass off the entire time.

Also, had to make a little ret-con from Chapter 1. Hopefully, nobody noticed. If you did, just keep it on the Q.T., eh? Thanks.


	4. Chapter 4

We didn't leave the parking lot immediately. Tseng wasn't stupid enough to abandon his car in that shithole parking lot, even for just overnight. There's no way anyone could know it was his, even the two brain stems we'd just gone 'round with—they never saw where we had come from or where we were going. But this is Midgar. Someone would destroy it out of spite.

I managed to convince Tseng that I had literally been _shocked_ sober, and so I was perfectly OK to drive. He argued that while that was a physiological impossibility, he was willing to give me the benefit of the doubt, but that I would need to be able to shift with my right hand. My right hand that was hanging by my side like it had been grafted to a piano.

I was 100% joking when I waggled my eyebrows and said, "I'll drive if you shift."

He shrugged and called my bluff. "OK."

_Ha ha ha ha ha ha oh my god WHAT_?

We still had business in the lot to take care of, so at least I had a moment or three to mentally psych myself.

We still had Sal's car, and we still had the keys to his car, and we were damned if we weren't gonna go through it. Turks gotta be a Turk. We had totally been in the wrong with that whole situation, but it's not like we'd just made BFF's tonight, either.

We tossed it pretty thoroughly; Tseng searched the whole interior while I poked around the trunk. _Single-handedly_. Ha.

I didn't find much. There was a Midgar Muscledome gym bag back there (surprise, surprise), and the usual flotsam: flashlight, tire iron, and a Club steering wheel lock: Great idea keeping it in the trunk, genius. I used the Club to stir around the contents of his gym bag.

PRO TIP_: _THIS IS NOT A THING I RECOMMEND DOING IF YOU LIKE TO EAT FOOD.

I checked a side pocket of the bag and found a small key attached to a silver ball chain, about the size of a gym locker key. Except that it was cut in a super-weird design that made it look like it had _prongs_ rather than teeth, with little channels and gold pipes scored into it like you'd see on a USB connector. It looked electronic. It looked important.

I closed the trunk and walked up to the front of the car to show it to Tseng where I found him penning a note. I looked over his shoulder and read it:

**_Sincere apologies for the misunderstanding, Bros._**

**_Signed:_**

**_Wang Chung & Copper Top._**

He wrote it in the most flamboyant calligraphic hand that ever saw a wedding invitation. I didn't even know he could _do_ that. Geeze, even his handwriting gets me hot.

Tseng didn't find much of anything. He snapped a picture on his cell phone of the guy's registration—one Salvatore Ramarro—and left the note with the car keys on the driver's seat before locking and closing the door.

"Let's leave the lights on and the engine running," I grinned.

He gave me a tiresome look. "Don't be juvenile, Reno. We're not pranksters, we're Turks. Show some dignity. Besides, I already loosened the starter fuse."

PRO TIP: THIS IS NOT A PRANK. APPARENTLY.

I slid behind the wheel of Tseng's little sport coupé. I felt like a real man for the first time in my life. Sitting in that car was like dating a supermodel. Everything in that whole beautiful machine was built specifically to make me look good and/or feel good. I had a sudden urge to drink brandy, and listen to jazz fusion, and attend a gala, whatever the hell a gala is.

"Dayuuum, I'm beginning to see why you spent a quarter of your pension on this thing."

"You should get one."

"Oh, no. It would be a very bad idea for me to own a car like this. I'd just wanna get naked and rub myself all over every square inch of this car."

"There's a bottle of lube in the glove compartment if you'd like to be alone."

_I am crazy. Or high._

Because that was the only explanation for how Tseng was acting. Or maybe Tseng was high. I thought about asking him who he was and what he had done with my C.O.

Driving the car, on the other hand, was a mess. Not even Tseng's hot little car could make us look good. Tseng would bark out directions to me two seconds before I needed to turn, while I discovered why he always drives the car like his own personal rocket ship: it has the most sensitive gas pedal in all of Automobiledom. Granted, I'm used to driving a car that steers like an aircraft carrier, but this was _seriously_ touchy...kinda like its owner.

We finally started getting down the process when we got to his condo building. The true test of this insane experiment was driving through the parking garage: I steered one-handed as we spiraled our way to the top, while Tseng shifted _through all five gears_ on each level as I avoided parked cars, concrete pylons, and at least one pedestrian; she'll never know how lucky she is to have her life right now.

PRO TIP: THIS IS A TOTALLY POINTLESS SKILL. DO NOT ATTEMPT UNLESS YOU ARE CRAZY.

I stared at the wall in front of where I'd parked. "The night cannot get any more stupid."

Tseng reached over my knee and took his keys. "It's not over yet."

He got out of his car. I sat there another few seconds waiting for a camera crew to jump out and wave a release form at me, trying to wrap my head around one of the most retarded days I've had in a long time. I got out.

Tseng waited. I walked over and stared at him levelly, his face the usual stony, indifferent, perfect mug I look at every day. But the catchlight in his eyes was dancing like a maniac. _Something_ was amusing. If I didn't know better, I'd say he was having _fun_.

"You totally could have driven us here. Couldn't you. You're as sober as a funeral."

He started walking and turned his head away, but not before I caught the little smirk that tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Just being cautious."

Bullshit. I've seen Tseng cautious—like cat-in-a-dog-kennel cautious—but this wasn't it. I didn't know what he was up to, but I couldn't help feel excited and anxious all at once.

But then, that's kinda what working with Tseng is all about.

* * *

I oozed comfortably into Tseng's plushy overstuffed couch and glanced around his living room. It was tasteful and neat and pretty much exactly what I'd pictured. A pair of crossed hookswords hung above a mantle underneath a red and black painted theater mask. A jade carving of an animal that looked like a cross between a dog and a dragon sat on one side of the mantel, and a clay warrior-soldier figurine stood on the opposite end.

There was no clutter, not a single speck of dust, or even a single dirty dish anywhere. It smelled of incense and cloves, like him only concentrated, and I inhaled deep and tried to relax and just sink into the experience.

"How's the wrist?" he asked, stepping out of his kitchen carrying two glasses of water. He set them both on the coffee table then sat down next to me.

I carefully lifted the ice bag perched on the back of my forearm elevated underneath a tower of cushions and surveyed the damage. The swelling had gone down slightly, but the bruise was the color of rotten grapes, and it throbbed like a bass drum. I kinda made me woozy just looking at it.

"Still attached," I said, setting the ice bag back on to my wrist as I let my head sag against the back of the sofa.

"Are you going to be all right?"

"Yeah," I sighed, feeling like my head weighed a ton. Tseng's comfy sofa was eating me and I was so tempted to close my eyes and let it. "I will be. Nothing a little Cure materia can't take care of."

Tseng grunted. "You don't need that."

I looked at him. "I don't?"

"No. It's bad for you."

"Materia. _Bad_ for me..."

"How does materia work?"

"It...depends on the materia?"

"_Cure_ materia, Reno. How does _Cure materia_ work?"

"Umm..." I did _not_ want to have this conversation. Most of my body hurt, and the parts that didn't were just in denial, so thinking was a chore at the moment. But Tseng was not letting this go, so I sighed and took his bait. "It speeds up your body's natural ability to heal itself."

He smirked. "See? You are smarter than you look."

Despite myself, I couldn't help but smile back. "Bite me."

"So what happens when your body begins to rely on that acceleration?"

Jeeze, Tseng was persistent. No rest for the weary, hung over, or injured, that's for sure. I thought for a moment that maybe if I didn't answer him, he'd just keep talking and I could tune him out like usual.

"Well...?"

Fine. Fine. I'd humor his little quiz and give him what he wanted to hear. I knew where he was going, I just didn't like it.

I sighed. "Your body doesn't heal as fast naturally."

See what I mean? Total bullshit.

Usually I manage to ignore the giant steaming piles of anti-materia / anti-mako propaganda circulating around. It's just a bunch of New Age hippies claiming it's "not natural." The same people that put word "organic" in front of something and charge you three times as much for it. Everyone's out to make a profit. Bullshit, bullshit, bullshit. Technically, _everything_ is organic if you break it down small enough. People are idiots who confuse "immoral" with "unnatural." Extracting mako from grandma's soul to run your toaster is _immoral_. But it's about as _organic_ as you can fucking get.

I snorted to myself when that last train of thought hit me.

"Something funny?"

I shrugged. "I just didn't think you were the type to buy into all that metaphysical nonsense."

"_Nonsense_? It's not _nonsense_. You're just skeptical."

"No, I'm _cynical_. Skeptics don't believe in anything. Cynics just don't give a fuck."

Tseng laughed softly. "Would it kill you to keep an open mind? It might come in useful."

"I'll open my mind when someone shows me something better."

"I can show you a few things." Tseng's voice was very soft. He set his glass on the coffee table and scooted closer to me.

I just looked at him and gulped.

"Sit up," he commanded. His _do-it-or-else_ voice.

I took the icepack off my wrist and Tseng pushed the tower of cushions between us to the floor. He had me sit straight up then turned me so I was sitting with my back to him and I could feel him rightbehind me, feel the heat of him near me. Oh god. There was no way he could know that all my x-rated fantasies started pretty much exactly like this, right?

"Don't worry," he said. "I'm not going to hurt you."

_BOW CHICKA BOW BOW_...

"What are you gonna do?" I asked.

"Just...try to relax."

"Whaddya mean _try_?"

"Shut up, Reno."

The hairs rose on my neck as I felt his fingers gently graze down my back, then he reached around and pressed his palm to my chest with the other like he was trying to make a me-sandwich. I heard him take a deep breath, then I felt his thumb dig into a spot on my lower back. At first, it felt kinda good, like a really tight muscle knot that was finally loosening up. Another thirty seconds or so, it started to get a little uncomfy. After two minutes or so, it just fucking flat out _hurt_. He held the spot from anywhere between three minutes and a year, until it hurt so bad I thought my skeleton was going to shatter.

I clenched my teeth. _Try_ to relax? It was taking all my willpower not to punch him.

When I was sure his thumb was actually going to puncture my kidney, he eased up and slowly massaged the point in a small circle.

"There. How's that feel?" he asked.

"Like you crushed my fucking spine!"

"Yes, but how do you feel _now_?"

"Like you crushed my fucking spine!"

"No. _Your wrist_."

_What? What's my wrist have to do with it?_

I looked at my arm. I slowly flexed my fingers and rotated my wrist as Tseng continued to support it like a wounded bird. I didn't feel anything. No pain, no ache. Just like my hand should.

"Actually...it feels pretty good." I wasn't sure if the pain was gone because of his little technique, or just because my nerve endings were so goddamned thankful he wasn't stabbing me anymore that they went off and took a nap somewhere. "How'd you do that?"

He grinned knowingly. "Ancient Wutai secret."

Well. Color my ass impressed. I wasn't ready to start writing gospels in his name or anything, but that was a pretty neat little trick.

_Wonder what else he could do with those hands…_

I looked down where he was still holding my wrist. "You're not gonna do it again, are you?"

His grin widened. "Do you want me to?"

The little electric chill of his skin making contact with mine, even just that little bit, was more than Tseng had ever touched me the entire time I've known him. Believe me, I can count on one hand the times he's intentionally touched me, and that includes the times he's either had to save my ass or kick it. Tseng would just as soon break your fingers one at a time, then reset them just so he could do it again than shake hands with a stranger.

I glared at him. "If you wanna eat my fist."

Tseng chuckled. "I just want to make sure you're all right. Does this bother you?"

He started to knead my arm, avoiding my bruise, but massaging my forearm, pulling up my sleeve to get higher up to my bicep. My arms became noodles. My heart hammered in my chest. I swallowed hard.

I shrugged. "No," I lied.

He kneaded my shoulder, then moved his hand to the back of my neck. I tensed a moment out of reflex; he kept his hand there but didn't move. "Are you sure?" he said.

I wouldn't say that it was _bothering_ me. I just wasn't sure he'd be touching me if he knew what it was doing downtown; swallowing wasn't the only thing that was getting hard.

"If you don't like this, just say so. All you have to do is tell me and I'll stop." Was that a taunt? Smooth, deep voice, words as soft as silk, as thorny as barbed wire. He had me in caught in his little web, for whatever sick enjoyment he was getting out of this. A test? Amusement? Practice?

If I pulled away now, I would just have to keep pulling myself right on out of here; it would be too awkward to stay. But as soon as I stood up, it would be pretty fucking obvious how much this was affecting me.

Fuck it, I was beyond the point of giving a shit what he thought about me anymore today. Maybe it wasn't just wishful thinking. If I backed away now, I'd never know just how far he was willing to take this. Or how far was I willing to _let_ him.

I forced myself to relax again, to let my head fall back into his warm hand as he massaged my neck at the base of my skull. I closed my eyes, felt his fingers scrunch up into the back of my hair and drag blunt nails over my scalp. A shiver ran through every single nerve of my body all the way down to my toes. Fuck, it felt good. _Fuck_.

I moaned.

I heard him breathe a soft laugh. "Enjoying that?"

Eyes closed, body boneless and heavy, slowly sinking to the bottom of the sofa, the atmosphere, those hands. I hadn't felt this comfortable, this relaxed, this horny in years. "Mmm. I'll give you a standing ovation when you're done."

"Looks like _part_ of you already is."

_Whaaaaaa….!_

My eyes flew open, I tensed ready to spring off the couch and...do what, exactly, I didn't know. But Tseng put his hand flat on my chest and pushed me back against the couch again.

"Take it easy. It was invented to feel good. Your body is just reacting to the manipulation of _qi_."

_Qi? What?_ Was he even _serious_?

It suddenly occurred to me how very wrong this was, how very stupid I was. Tseng can believes what he wants to about all that hocus-pocus bullshit, but my _dick_ wasn't reacting to a "manipulation of _qi_." And while I really wanted nothing more than to continue lying there and fuel my fantasies for the rest of my life, I respected him more than that, goddamnit. And I guess I kinda respect myself more than that, too. I don't need this frustration, this agony. I torture myself enough with my ridiculous obsession over him every day, I didn't need to add any fuel to it, any hope that I was anything more to Tseng than a tiny cog in his master plan.

I gently pushed his hand away and sat up. "Um, yeah, no. I...I really don't think so."

"What's wrong?"

"I think my _qi_ has had enough manipulating today."

"You don't have to be embarrassed. It's a natural response to the stimuli. It doesn't imply anything."

"What the _hell_ do you mean by that?"

"Your sexuality."

I bristled and moved away, glaring at him from the other side of the sofa. "What _about_ my sexuality?"

"Just because you experience arousal during a massage doesn't automatically mean that you're aroused by other men. It's just a physiological response to being touched."

Other _men_? If only he knew. I started to laugh. Not a funny ha-ha laugh.

He glared at me. "I invited you into my home. I tried to make you comfortable. I am sorry if I offended you. But I appreciate it if you did not mock _me_."

What? Oh shit. I shut up immediately. There was the Tseng I knew, the cold-hearted son-of-a-bitch whose words freeze the very breath from his lungs. Crapcrapcrap. This was not going well at all.

"No. No. God, _no_. That's the last thing I want to do." I sat forward and rubbed my forehead.

He sat next to me, quiet and rigid and still.

PRO TIP: IF YOU WANT TO GET SOMEONE TO TALK, JUST SHUT THE FUCK UP AND LET THEM.

People will talk just to fill a void where a conversation should be. They will say all kinds of stupid things, confess, make offers, tell their life stories, because people hate uncomfortable silences and would rather talk than feel awkward. Tseng is a master at this. He uses it on me, controls me like a puppet, pulls my strings. I'm fully aware of it _every single time it happens_, and yet I _always_ end up in a full state of disclosure. I am no different than any of the other dumb son-of-a-bitches he manipulates.

_Don't you dare open your fucking mouth! Don't you fucking dare!_

"Fuck, Tseng. It's not a _qi_-thing. It's not a _touch_-thing. It's not even a _male_-thing," I said. "It's a _you_-thing."

_You are an IDIOT. You literally were required to DO ABSOLUTELY NOTHING and you fucking blew it! You have just defined Stupidity for all time! Why don't you just go kill yourself right now and rid the entire Planet of your stupidness!_

No movement on the other side of the sofa except one eyebrow arching curiously.

Shit. _Shit_. There was no way to back out of this gracefully now. Besides, when have I ever done graceful?

"God, Tseng. You read people for a living. Don't even pretend like you didn't notice that I have a—a crush on you." Where was that giant void ready to open up and suck me into Hell everyone always told me I'd end up in when I needed it?

"A _crush_?"

I sighed and kept my eyes glued to the floor. I could not say this and look at him in the eye. "Yep. Total angst-ridden, 'dear diary he touched my knee today' school-girl _crush_."

"I wasn't aware I touched your knee that often." His voice sounded lighter, amused even. Now who was being mocked?

I sheepishly ducked my head looked over at him, feeling my skin glow from my scalp to my chest. I must've looked like a tomato. "You _don't_. You don't touch me at all. Which is probably a good thing, because the constant hard-on would be really hard to explain. Fuck, don't tell me you didn't know this and I'm just spilling my guts here for no reason."

He shrugged with such a small gesture, anyone else might have missed it. "I suspected." Small tendril of a smile curled at the corner of his mouth.

I blinked, feeling the Planet tilt on its axis. "And you're not freaked out by this?"

"I'm still here, aren't I?"

"You _live_ here."

The grin widened. "_You're_ still here, aren't you?"

I had no response. I just sat staring dumbly at him.

"You are freaked out by this."

"_Yes_!" 'Freaked out' was a mild way of saying it. 'Terrified beyond the capacity for rational human thought' was more accurate, but, like I said, I was terrified beyond the capacity for rational human thought so I couldn't quite articulate that. "How can you _not_ be?"

He smiled—a _genuine_ smile, not an overconfident smirk or wry grin—and god, it was beautiful. And was that a _dimple_? Holy shit, how had I not noticed that before?

He said, "I told you I was different once you got to know me."

"This is definitely different."

"Would you like to punch me in the crotch now?"

"No! God, no. That's not at all what I want to do..." I cleared my throat awkwardly and looked away_._

It was quiet for a while. I didn't say anything. For a _fucking change_. I just waited for the meteor to fall out of the sky and crush me.

PRO TIP: IF EVERYTHING SEEMS TO BE GOING YOUR WAY, YOU ARE PROBABLY ABOUT TO DIE.

"It's your move."

"Why is it _my_ move?"

"Because I clearly have the upper hand and I don't want to do anything that would be misconstrued as forceful or manipulative."

I snorted. "Kinda part of the job description, ain't it?

"Reno, _you_ are not my job," he said. He was dead serious but sincere. "This isn't work. I'm not going to do that to you."

Tseng could talk a beggar out of his last gil. It would take nothing more than a nod of his head my direction to get me to do _anything_. Puppet on a string. But that was exactly his point then, wasn't it?

I exhaled sharply. "I'm just not good at this whole seduction-thing."

"I noticed." That little knowing smirk was back. "Have a little confidence in yourself."

"And if I walked out of here?" I said. "We'd never talk about this again."

His eyes never left mine. "If that's what you want."

"I really don't."

"Then show me."

OK, time to grow a spine. I leaned in closer to him, staring into his dark eyes. His pupils exploded when I came within inches of his face. I put my good hand on his chest, pushed him back against the arm of the sofa. "So I could do this…and you'll let me?"

"One way to find out," he said, his voice husky and low. He moved with me but still didn't touch me. I could feel his heart beating underneath my hand and that seemed to drive the point into my skull that this was a thing that could happen. _Was_ happening. Holy shit.

Screwing up my courage and only pausing to briefly note that abso-fucking-lutely insane, I leaned in farther. Tseng didn't move. This was _my_ call. My lesson. Teach the rookie. Snatch the pebble, Grasshopper.

I touched my lips to his, tentatively.

_He's going to laugh at you. Or worse. He's not going to do anything. You idiot._

But he didn't. He _so_ didn't. Softly at first, I couldn't resist tasting the crease of his mouth with my tongue, he let out a slow breath that washed my face in warmth. For a beat or two he did just sit there, and just as I was about to pull away again, he leaned in and hungrily took my mouth in the most delicious, intense kiss that made my toes curl. _Backward_.

PRO TIP: IF IT'S STUPID BUT IT WORKS—IT WASN'T STUPID.


End file.
